oo biggity to bite prairie-dogs. So
_dat_ turned out all right.

"De next what come to Miz. Prairie-Dog was a flier."

"A bird?" asked Patricia Randolph.

"Yes, little mistis," returned the old Indian. "One dese-hyer little,
round, brown squinch-owls, what allers quakes an' quivers in dey speech
an' walk. 'I gits so dizzy--izzy--wizzy! up in de top o' de trees,' de
little brown owl say, as she swivel an' shake. 'An' I wanted to git me a
home down on de ground, so dat I could be sure, an' double sure, dat I
wouldn't fall. But dey is dem dat says ef I was down on de ground I
might fall down a hole. Dat make me want to live in yo' house. Hit's
down in de ground, ain't hit? Ef I git down in yo' house dey hain't no
place for me to fall off of, an' fall down to, is dey?' she ax.

[Illustration: "I WANTED TO GIT ME A HOME DOWN ON DE GROUND, SO DAT I
COULD BE SURE, AN' DOUBLE SURE, DAT I WOULDN'T FALL," SAYS MIZ. BROWN
OWL]

"Miz. Prairie-Dog been in de way o' fallin' down-stairs all her life;
dat de onliest way she ever go inter her house--she fling up her hands
an' laugh as you pass her by, and she drap back in de hole. But she tell
de little brown owl dat dey ain't no place you could fall ef you go to
de bottom eend o' her house. So, what wid a flier an' a crawler, an' de
oldest prairie-dog boy workin' out, she manage to make tongue and buckle
meet. I's went by a many a prairie-dog hole an' seen de owl an' de
rattlesnake what boards wid Miz. Prairie-Dog. Ef you was to go to Texas
you'd see de same. But nobody in dat neck o' woods ever knowed how dese
folks come to live in one house."

"Who told _you_, Daddy Laban?" asked Pate Randolph.

"My Injun gran'mammy," returned the old man. "She told me a many a tale,
when I lived wid my daddy's people on de Cherokee Res'vation. Sometime I
gwine tell you 'bout de little fawn what her daddy ketched for her when
she 's a little gal. But run home now, honey chillens, or yo' mammy done
think Daddy Laban stole you an' carried you plumb away."

II.--SONNY BUNNY RABBIT'S GRANNY

Of all the animal stories which America, the nurse-girl, told to the
children of Broadlands plantation, they liked best those about Sonny
Bunny Rabbit.

"You listen now, Marse Pate an' Miss Patty an' my baby child, an' I
gwine tell you de best tale yit, 'bout de rabbit," she said, one lazy
summer afternoon when they were tired of playing marbles with
china-berries.

"You see, de fox he mighty hongr